


Try the Champagne

by Xyriath



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Established Relationship, Failed Domesticity, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce, you should have learned by now that Jason can't behave in public.  Taking Jason to a party was probably a poor idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try the Champagne

Jason’s fingers itched to tug at the crimson tie around his neck, itched to yank the goddamn thing off and toss it in one of the flutes of champagne zipping around on the silver platters.  Small as they were, he could probably manage the shot if he scrunched up the tie _really_ tight.  He was pretty sure, however, that treating a Charvet like that in this crowd would get him tossed out at best and lynched at worst.  He settled for snagging one of the flutes instead, plucking it off the tray with practiced ease and tossing it back with even more skill, though the latter was probably more suited for shots than champagne.

That might have explained the expression on the face of his conversation partner.  The woman was staring at him as if he’d just started drooling, so Jason flashed her a brilliant smile.  “Something the matter?”  It saved him from having to recall exactly what they had been discussing, anyway.  Wayne Industries and stocks or something similar.

“Not at all.”  He didn’t feel too terribly bad about stalling the conversation; he knew that neither of them really wanted to be discussing that topic.  The moment he had tauntingly danced around her “nonchalant” questions about what, exactly, he was doing here with Bruce Wayne, he had seen her interest fade, replaced by blank politeness that you could have read as courteous curiosity if you wanted to.  But why would Jason bother?

It was remarkable, how convincingly polite these people could be.  If Jason didn’t know better, he would have thought she _wasn’t_ looking to ditch him at the earliest opportunity and find her friend and/or date and discuss the deplorable manners of whoever-it-was that Bruce Wayne had invited along, not to mention speculate on the precise nature of their relationship.

(Which, even if Jason had been completely sure of himself, he would never consider actually _talking_ about.)

Jason figured he shouldn’t be a _complete_ shit, though, as some form of gratitude towards Bruce for inviting him along.  As such, when he spotted his whatever-it-was—since he didn’t think that he could really call Bruce a “date”—he excused himself politely from the not-really-a-conversation instead of simply walking away.

Of course, propriety and Jason could only operate in each other’s presences for so long.  The beeline he made towards Bruce was faster than strictly necessary, and the hand on his elbow was almost _too_ familiar.  Jason was just glad that the man wasn’t already engaged in conversation, since tugging Bruce away from one would have earned him a scolding.  Not that a scolding would have altered Jason’s intentions, but it would have made this next bit more difficult as Jason navigated deftly through the hallways.

The emptiness of the room only made it more perfect for Jason’s purposes.  There was probably something to be said here about aesthetics and unnecessary half-wall dividers and the balance of the room, but the only thing Jason had noted about it, the moment he had seen it, was exactly what he would be doing there tonight.

With an expression that emanated seriousness and gravity, he pulled Bruce behind the half-wall, glancing over at the door.  Perfect; anyone coming in would only find Bruce’s mid-torso and higher visible.

“Jason, what’s this ab—”

Kissing would always be so much simpler than talking, and there were times where Jason could say so much more with his lips pressed to Bruce’s than forming words with them.  As he moaned softly into the kiss, curling his fingers around Bruce’s shoulders, he could feel hands resting lightly on his waist.  He lingered on Bruce’s lips longer than he had intended to, but pulled back after a few moments, opening his eyes again.

Bruce’s expression was caught somewhere between confused, concerned, and amused.  “Is everything all right?”

Jason simply pressed a finger to Bruce’s lips, shooting him a grin.  It might have been meant to be comforting on some level, but there was too much mischief and wickedness in it for it to be remotely effective as such.  Even less so when Jason was sliding his hands down the front of Bruce’s jacket, slowly sinking into a kneel.  Jason’s eyes never left Bruce’s widening ones as he reached up to make work of the button and zipper.

“Jason, don’t you _dare—!_ ”

And then they both heard it, the telltale clicking of heels as someone walked into the room.  Bruce’s easy playboy expression snapped back into place as he smiled over at her (at least, Jason assumed anyone wearing heels would be a “her” at this party, but no judgment there), pretending that Jason wasn’t there and probably praying that she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

Well.  Jay would just have to teach Bruce exactly how much he hated being ignored.

Bruce shifted his weight slightly as Jason palmed what was quickly becoming an erection, then froze as Jason slid his mouth over the head.  He smirked around the mouthful as the woman—the one Jason had been talking to earlier, actually—began with a bright, “Mr. Wayne!”

Jason barely paid attention to the content of the conversation as he licked his way down, wrapped his tongue around the base of the erection, then slid it back up.  Bruce was disappointingly good at this, Jason noted in the back of his mind as he listened to the older man talk about some acquaintances Jason had never heard of.  Luckily, their talk and the background din of the soirée covered what little noise Jason made.

To show Bruce exactly how little he cared about Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh or whoever, Jason busied himself with fitting his lips around Bruce’s cock, slowly sliding it into his mouth.  A gag reflex had never been a particular problem for him.  He felt Bruce twitch again, heard his breath catch as Jason’s nose pressed into the trail of hair on his lower stomach, mouth covering him fully, but aside from the momentary pause, the conversation continued.

Whereas normally Jason would have moaned right about now, that wasn’t exactly an option.  So, as a high-pitched laugh that was trying almost too hard to be casual sounded across from Bruce, he began to suck.

He lifted his hands and pressed his fingers into the back of Bruce’s thighs as he pulled back, and he felt Bruce’s fingers in his hair on the side of his head.  How had he managed _that_ one without giving the two of them away?  He supposed the man deserved a reward for that, and so took Bruce fully in his mouth again, swirling his tongue as the cock pressed against the back of his throat.

“I’m very glad to hear things worked out with them…”

Jason pressed his lips down slightly, hoping for some kind of vocal response, another pause or a stammer perhaps, but was disappointed.  Had to try harder.  Pulling back again, Jason started up a slow, silent rhythm of head movement, throwing in his tongue when he felt like being particularly generous.

Bruce’s fingers eventually tightened their grip, and the slight tension in his voice as he continued the conversation left Jason feeling ridiculously proud.

“That’s a Jay.  Shame.  That’s a shame, I mean.  That the company couldn’t manage it.  No accounting for their taste, I suppose.”

Bruce undoubtedly felt the smirk that took shape around his cock.  Jason just sped up.

There it was, the tiniest of breath hitches, as the woman was in the middle of going on about something involving ingrates, and Jason was pretty sure, as Bruce’s hand clenched in his hair, that he was paying just as little attention to the conversation as Jay was.  Jason leaned forward, nose pressed to Bruce’s abdomen again as he ran his tongue up the underside of Bruce’s cock.  Just another moment—

Jason swallowed quickly as Bruce came in his mouth, having the foresight to try to prevent any of it from getting on his suit.  For one terrifying and thrilling moment he thought he was about to choke, or cough, but he caught himself.  Still, it was far closer than he knew Bruce would have wanted.

He licked off the small bit of residue from Bruce’s softening cock before pulling back, feeling a drop catch on his lower lip and silently replacing what clothing he could.  The button first, then the zipper—slowly.  The rest of the shirt would have to be tucked in later, and he wasn’t even going to attempt the belt.

His fingers itched for a cigarette as he settled back against the wall to wait, but that was even less of an option.  And their conversation was boring to listen to, too, though Jason was somewhat amused at the speed at which Bruce managed to maneuver their talk in the direction of ending, now that he had all of his mental faculties again.

Jason slid effortlessly back onto his feet when he heard the retreating footsteps, straightening the jacket.  He wasn’t sure if Bruce’s critical eye was out of concern for the clothing he had lent Jason, disapproval for what just happened, or a bit of both.

Of course, the fact that Jason could see the heavy rise and fall of Bruce’s chest negated any shame that he might have had.

“You are absolutely incorrigible.”  The tone was low, disapproving, and breathless.  Jason just grinned.

“But boss,” he replied cheerfully, lifting the empty flute he had set down earlier.  “I was just tryin’ what they got at this fancy party.”  He didn’t miss Bruce’s eyes lingering on his lower lip, where he _knew_ that drop was still glistening.  “The champagne, in particular,” he continued as he ran his tongue over it before biting his lower lip, “is excellent.”

Bruce’s fingers worked quickly to straighten himself, tucking the shirt in and buckling the belt.  “If you can’t be bothered to behave—”

“Hey, I’ve been good the _whole_ time.  I just couldn’t wait to… express my gratitude.”  He smirked at Bruce’s raised eyebrow, retorting with one of his own.  “If you think that this means we need to go _home_ , however…”

He couldn’t suppress a laugh as Bruce, hand gripped tightly around Jason’s wrist, dragged him towards the door.

*

There was something to be said for a car’s autopilot when you had more important things on your mind—something along the lines of “necking like teenagers.”  There was also something to be said for the way formal wear peeled off of Bruce’s body, or the expression on his face as he yanked off Jason’s.  He wasn’t sure if it was the clothes or the fact that they were Bruce’s clothes, but he didn’t particularly care if it got him this reaction.

And as Jason shoved Bruce back onto the bed; as strong hands yanked the thighs gripping Bruce’s waist to a rough, unsteady pace; as blunted fingernails slipped through the sweat on Bruce’s shoulders and Jason’s head tipped back, gasping moan promising that he had far, far more planned for this evening…

Well, if all of these evenings ended up like this, maybe the stupid parties weren’t such a bad thing after all.


End file.
